A Bug's Life (3 page)

A Pillar Colony consisted of six generational
ships, tethered together. The Pillar had put their entire race into
these Colonies and sent them out, each one going in a different
direction in space. No one knew how many Colonies had left Pilla,
though – based on the Pilla reproductive cycle, which was short;
the Pilla lifecycle, which was also relatively short; and the
restrictions a generational ship put onto any race – a conservative
estimate was a thousand Colonies.

In a sane galaxy, that would have been the end
of it. The Pillars would be heading off to nowhere, and the
Diamante Families would have been satisfied with destroying their
home world. But this wasn’t a sane galaxy, and hadn’t been since
the first Diamante decided that everyone else was a lesser being
than he was.

“
It’s helping, Fren,” Roy said,
voice tight. “Hold it as long as you can, I think we’re almost out
of the wreckage.”

The ship was still flipping and spinning and
it was still unpleasant. Despite the telekinetic shield, we took
several more hits, but they were much fewer than we’d had before
and all patched quickly. However, we had no banter and no one
bothered to even share that things were patched. Some to avoid
disturbing Roy and Dr. Wufren – since the telekinesis he was doing
was extremely challenging. Some because of the horror of what we’d
stumbled into.

But finally everything stopped – the ship
flipping around, the pinggggs, and, based on hearing Dr. Wufren,
Roy, and Doven all exhale at the same time, the telekinesis and the
danger.

“We’re floating above it, but we’re going to
have to move on, soon,” Roy said. “But you can all untether and
take a look. We need to verify that all windows are intact
anyway.”

“Sensors indicate they are,” Doven added. “But
under the circumstances, use extreme caution.”

I was sure no one really wanted to look. But
at the same time, we needed to. Every room in Quarters had a
porthole – and every porthole was space-strength reinforced glass,
with an interior sliding and locking metal door. The door meant
that if any debris hit and cracked or shattered the glass, it
wouldn’t cause decompression and death. At least, not at the time
of impact.

If sensors were wrong, however – and they
could have been damaged due to what we’d just been through – then
we could open a porthole door and be sucked out into space, or at
least have our faces sucked out, which was just as bad. Hull repair
was a lot easier, faster, and far more effective than glass
repair.

We had options, but the fastest was to let
Bullfrog verify the portholes’ integrity. Polliwogs looked like
giant frogs, were strong, fast, and could close their nostrils and
still breathe. His scales gave him the most natural protection,
too.

I shifted into Polliwog form and went with him
as backup. Ciarissa manned the doors, as in, closed and locked them
from the outside until we could verify that each porthole was
secure.

We had ten rooms to do. I was able to avoid
looking for the first two. But when we verified the third porthole,
I had an excellent view of what Roy had likely thought was the big
asteroid. One of our ship’s external lights was shining on it – it
was easy to see why Roy had made the mistake – the large piece of
wreckage was more rounded than angular, with pockets and
depressions all over it.

“What part of the ship do you think it…was?” I
asked Bullfrog.

“No idea.”

“I have run scans,” Doven said over the com.
“I believe that is a Pillar Birthing Sac.”

“I still sense no minds,” Ciarissa said
quickly.

“We have to go and see if there are any
survivors.”

“DeeDee, Bullfrog, finish verifying the ship’s
integrity.” Roy’s voice was calm.

“We will. But we are going to look for
survivors immediately after.”

No one argued with me. Bullfrog and I worked
our way through the rest of Quarters quickly.

“All portholes secure,” Bullfrog said as he,
Ciarissa, and I headed to the galley. The others were already
there, Roy and Doven arriving when we did.

“I want to search. Now.”

“How are we going to search for survivors?”
Kyle asked. “We barely made it out as it was.”

“I don’t care.”

Roy put his arm around me. “I know. But if
Ciarissa can’t feel minds, then there are no survivors.”

“If they’re in suspended animation, they may
not register.”

“DeeDee is correct,” Ciarissa admitted. “I
would sense brainwaves, but if they aren’t in a dream state,
perhaps not.”

“Before we do anything, we need to face one
important fact,” Willy said. He was one of those men who just got a
little leaner and more lived-in looking the older he got. He was
worried – I could tell because when he was worried he sucked his
cheeks in and his face looked even older and more sunken. “There’s
only one thing that could and would destroy a Pillar Colony, and
it’s a Diamante Cruiser or Fleet. Meaning our enemies are close
by.”

“No,” Ciarissa said. “I sense no minds other
than ours. Believe me, I have searched for Diamante minds. There
are none in the vicinity.”

“Based on the wreckage and how close together
the debris is, I believe the attack happened a galactic hour ago,
no more than three,” Doven said.

“So there’s a chance there could be
survivors.”

“We can’t destroy ourselves trying to
determine that,” Roy said gently. “I can’t risk this ship and every
life on it for what could be nothing.”

“But –”

“Our lives for a bug’s life isn’t a good
trade,” Willy said. Most Old Earthers had issues with the Pillar,
much more than they did with the Arachnidans. Willy said it was
because Old Earthers had fear and respect for spiders and none at
all for pill bugs, even giant ones.

“Willy’s right,” Roy said, a little more
firmly. “We have a duty to more than ourselves, DeeDee.”

“Is now really the time for the Martian
Alliance Speech, bro?” Kyle asked. But quietly.

“The Pillar were part of the original
Alliance,” Tresia pointed out.

“I don’t care,” Roy said, turning stubborn.
“The likelihood of survivors is slim to none and everyone on this
ship has too much value to risk.”

“Every life has value,” I protested, as I
tried to keep myself from getting angry, even though Roy and Willy
both looked like they were going to start crossing their arms over
their chests and begin lectures on which races were more superior
than others. “And the Pillar are more than just bugs, Willy, and
you know it. You, too, Roy. We can’t leave without at least
checking for proof of life. We just can’t –”

“I may have a way,” Dr. Wufren interrupted my
protest and whatever counters both Roy and Willy’s open mouths were
about to utter. “The wreckage is moving, after all. Roy, my boy, if
you can match course with it, I could perhaps give it a shove, so
as to move it away from the rest of the debris more
quickly.”

Roy and Doven exchanged a look. “It’s
workable,” Doven said. “But the push would need to be strong in
order to allow us to search within a reasonable timeframe to have a
hope of rescuing survivors.”

“But will it exhaust you?” Roy asked Dr.
Wufren. “You’ve already expended more tele-talent than we’d
expected to have to.”

Who gave me a very understanding smile. “Some
things are worth the risk.”

Willy heaved a resigned sigh as Roy looked at
me. “Fine. Fren, if you’re up for it, let’s do it.”

“While you all prepare and proceed,” Tresia
said, “I will suit up.”

Everyone stared at her. “Excuse me?” Roy asked
finally.

She sighed. “Someone will need to exit the
ship to search for survivors. If there are any, the crew member who
can grab and carry the most is me. We all have spacesuits, Roy.
Were you thinking I would never use mine?”

“She’s right, no time for arguing, since the
longer we delay, the less likely any survivors will still be alive.
I’ll help Tresia into her suit.” I pulled away from Roy and hugged
Dr. Wufren. “Thank you.”

Roy looked like he wanted to argue, but
apparently my expression told him that discretion was absolutely
the better part of valor right now. He, Doven, and Dr. Wufren
headed to the cockpit, while Tresia and I headed to where our
off-ship gear was stowed.

Unlike Polliskins, which were skintight and
literally hell to get on, spacesuits were far more roomy. Getting
eight limbs into the suit still required assistance, of course, but
nothing like a Polliskin would have.

“Rest assured, DeeDee, I will search
diligently.”

“I know you will,” I said as I did the
double-check on her oxygen tanks. “And I’ll be there to help you.”
I stepped into my own suit.

Because I was an extremely strong and talented
shifter, I had the advantage of being able to shift my clothing as
I shifted my body. This included my space suit. I didn’t shift the
suit often – it was too important a piece of equipment to risk
over-stressing, but in times of need, I could take the risk. And
this was a time of need.

“Are you sure you want to accompany me?” she
asked as she double-checked my tanks after I’d shifted into
Arachnidan form.

“Yes. Because sixteen hands are better than
eight, and because someone needs to have your back.”

Tresia attached my lifeline and I attached
hers – threaded twice through a reinforced belt around our middles,
clipped in four places on the suit as well. We tested their holds
several times. Then we tested the clips at the ends to make sure
they were sound, strong, and not going to come undone.

The rest of the coiled, strong yet
supple metal lines were heavy, though it was easier to carry them
in this form than it would have been in my natural one. We’d taken
the longest lines available to us, meaning we had a good hundred
yards of line each.

We went to the airlock, advised the cockpit
that we were in position, closed the door tightly behind us, and
put our helmets on. We verified that our helmets were tight, that
our air and suit pressure was correct, and then we waited. There
was a porthole on the external door and, after I verified that it
had no damage, we both looked out.